Breaking Point
by Shimmersea
Summary: I do have a reason for doing this to my poor Shizuka! I do! I just haven't really shown it ALL yet...
1. Chapter One

Breaking Point  
  
Default Chapter: Night jobs  
  
By Shimmersea  
  
DISCLAIMER: I still don't own anything. I've got awhile to own anything. *Curses* The weight of time is a heavy burden. *wails*  
  
***  
  
A young woman delicately applied long, fake, glittery lashes to her eyelids. She carefully painted her lips a bright crimson, the color of blood. She applied varying shades of gold and brown to her eyelids, and brushed some peach colored blush on her pale cheeks. She carefully arranged her hair in a twisted bun, with many wisps of the long, vibrant red hair arranged beautifully around her face, greatly contrasting with her pale skin.  
  
"I don't think it's tight enough," observed a woman thoughtfully, reaching out and pulling the tight corset even tighter to the skinny girl's waist. The redhead flinched in pain as her friend squeezed more of her air out of her system. Once her cleavage popped up to the point it was almost all exposed, the woman considered it 'acceptable'. (Who wears their shirt like that ALL the time? Lulu (FFX) and Mai. OWIE! Doesn't it hurt?)  
  
The redhead brushed on some glitter everywhere she could find, cheeks, arms, and the tops of her breasts. Yes, her job was not glamorous. But it paid well. And did she need the money. If she had a choice, would she be doing this? Hell no. But she had no choice.  
  
"You are on in five," her "friend" told her, slipping out the door. The redhead sighed, and tucked the blanket securely around her. She glanced at her beautiful, seductive reflection, and was immediately disgusted. How many more weeks would she have to keep this up? She was nowhere close to being ready. A tear dripped down her face, and she wiped it away and powdered her face quickly. Damn this.  
  
***  
  
He was thoroughly bored with the whole thing already. Watching drug- addicted females stumble up and down a runway wearing less then what they went to bed in wasn't his idea of fun. But it was his comrades, who were drunkenly cheering and hollering for more women and less clothes. By God, he was almost ready to pay them to put them back on.  
  
Not to say he was a purist and wanted sex only in wedlock. Hell no. But still, these drug addicts weren't his idea of someone to lust after. He watched uninterested as one of his partners to collapse on the floor from too much alcohol. He deserved it, the disgusting bastard.  
  
"Hot, huh?" another man asked him sluggishly, elbowing him in the ribs. His eyes slowly made his way to the man, glaring daggers. The man stopped any attempt of a conversation.  
  
Whistles suddenly made a chorus throughout the room. A small, young, lively red head was on the pole. She was different from the other sluts strutting along the walk. She was young, vibrant, and seemingly wasn't addicted. As he could tell, anyway. It was odd to see a girl like that in a low-cal place like this. He had to admit, she was very pretty, and quite seductive. More of something he was interested in.  
  
But not quite.  
  
The fact she worked here turned him off like a light switch. She was much better at the job than the others were, though. She brought up her left leg, exactly vertical, and let her body fall back, touched her hands to the floor, and slowly let both legs follow. Her scarlet tresses were perfectly placed on her ivory skin, her lips full and red, chest barely contained.  
  
His fellow men went berserk. They threw money at her, cheered, whistled, and grabbed the clothing she discarded, reached their pudgy arms to touch her. Disgusting. Wasting their money on trash like that? Hard earned money, too. He watched as an idiot threw hundreds at her for some bit of attention. He rolled his eyes, no longer interested.  
  
But for some reason, his eyes were drawn back, watching her slim legs wrap around the pole and her seductive smiles. Stupid, really. He'd force himself to do some taxing computer problem later just to get his mind of the stupidity he himself was indulging in now.  
  
Finally, after seemingly hours of stretching and flaunting, the girl took each bill that had been thrown on the stage and put every single bill securely in a little bag that she had attached to her thigh with a leather band. All the men went bug-eyed, realizing she was leaving, and clamored for more. But she simply lowered her lashes and disappeared behind the velvet curtain.  
  
This was all really idiotic.  
  
He began to gather his things. He had grown tired of seeming interested. All of his business partners were much too involved with the goings on the stage to notice. He straightened his collar and dusted his sleeves. He stood up, walked to the exit, and after one last disgusted glare, went out into the biting cold air.  
  
A young woman with a tan coat stood about three feet away from him, counting money. She had a rich, melodious voice. It was fascinating, he hated to say. There were few people with that kind of voice. And when they talked, the weak-hearted could do nothing but do as they say. She could ask idiots to commit suicide and they'd do it in a heartbeat.  
  
"Twenty, thirty, eighty, one hundred, two hundred, two fifty, three hundred..." she counted, flicking each bill from her palm each time. "Five eighty. Not bad." She remarked, turning the money over in her hands. He reckognise her as the young, seductive, un-addicted woman who had gotten all the winnings. Her long waist length red hair was now out, and she was missing most of the makeup. But she was still very pretty with high cheek bones and ivory skin.  
  
But she was smaller than life itself. He had thought it was that revolting corset like contraption she had been squeezed in, but no, she actually was about that size. She was very tired, and dark rings blanketed her eyes. But still, only the blind could deny she was ravishing, not to mention extremely beautiful.  
  
"Good catch," she decided, stuffing it in the pocket. And then she rose into a large yawn. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a set of keys. She walked to a motorcycle, which she had been standing in front of, and put the key in the ignition. She pulled on some gloves and a helmet, and strapped it under her chin. Then she zoomed off, her hair flying behind her.  
  
It was stupidly idiotic, completely irrational, revolting to an extremely, extremely high point, but against his better will, he knew he had nothing to merit if he didn't admit it, even here to the sidewalk (Because, as Mokuba saw it, sidewalks could hear everything going on around them, even secret thoughts, but that's a fic I'm not planning on writing). He was attracted.  
  
***  
  
She yanked a comb through her snarled hair desperately. If Joey found out she had been on his motorcycle, in this weather, he'd kill her. (She had her own, but Honda was fixing it) He wasn't here at the moment, but the second he was she wanted to be prepared. She was sore all over, and every movement sent pain coursing through her body. But what could she do?  
  
For one, stop stripping, start eating, and stop running away from people who are only trying to help.  
  
She clipped her hair up out of her face, and looked at the sparkling kitchen in front of her. She had cleaned it yesterday morning and since then hadn't touched it's sparkling surface. But Joey was coming home and he deserved a good meal. She glanced in the fridge. She decided an easy chicken noodle soup with a salad would serve as a fine meal for Joey.  
  
She tossed the necessary items in a pot, turned up the temperature, and poured in some broth. Her head hurt terribly, she felt like she had just woken up to a major hangover. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. She looked in the mirror and frowned at the dark lines lining her face. They were almost to the point where she could no longer cover them up. Hopefully Joey wouldn't notice.  
  
As the inviting scent of the soup filled the kitchen, she desperately wanted to bring than horribly hot pot to her lips and drink the broth leaving the vegetables and chicken sitting there. But she couldn't, if she were to maintain her figure. Damn figure. She'd gain eighty pounds and live as a fat person once this was all done and buried.  
  
Instead, she allowed herself to snack on a cracker. After her third saltine she heard the squeak of the door hinge and the thud of Joey's things hitting the floor. She put down her cracker neatly and brushed crumbs off her black shirt before flying out and throwing her arms around her brother.  
  
"Big Brother!" She squealed, almost suffocating him in her loving embrace.  
  
"Whoa there, Shiz. Let the man breathe," Joey laughed, patting his sister on the back. Shizuka grinned at him in response.  
  
"Hey there, Shizuka," Mai said, coming into the apartment and dropping the baby bag on the floor. Her baby, Issei, grinned widely at the familiar apartment. Shizuka released her brother and took the child from Mai's arms.  
  
"Hewo, Koinu! Hewo, hewo! Look at you!" Shizuka cooed, bouncing the baby.  
  
"Hey, don't call my kid puppy. I find it offensive." Joey said, feeling a little hurt that his sister had left him to shower her attention on a baby. Mai grinned at her husband.  
  
"Jealous of a baby? Joseph, I thought I knew you." She joked sadly. Joey sneered at her, and flopped on the couch as if his legs had suddenly stopped working. He sniffed the air like a hound dog before asking the one question he was always bound to ask.  
  
"When's the food?"  
  
"I just put it on, about ten minutes," Shizuka said, looking at her watch. Mai scooped her baby from Serenity and dropped on the couch beside her husband. Serenity smiled as she watched Mai placed Issei on the ground to let him gaze at everything in wonder. She left to the kitchen, and taking the opportunity as it arrived, Mai linked arms with her husband and snuggled against him, her violet eyes traveling to his face, eyes filled with worry, as if she were counting in her head how many more times she would be able to glance at her husband.  
  
***  
  
With a yawn, Serenity Wheeler arrived in her classroom; many of her classmates snickered and tossed paper and spitballs in her general direction. She ignored them the best she could, but when one whizzed by her face and caught her ear, it took all she had to keep from bellowing at her fellow classmates.  
  
Everyone here knew what she did. Like they didn't have things they'd like to forget. But all of her classmates were rich and impressionable. She felt her cheeks warming at her eyes falling to the floor as snickers raced through the class. Damn them. They didn't know what it was like.  
  
She plunked down in her regular seat, a frown now marking her face. She closed her eyes, and her dark lashes rested on her ivory skin.  
  
I hate French, I hate French, I hate French! She thought to herself, angrily kicking at the books she had placed under the desk.  
  
"Hey, babe," a voice whispered in her ear, hot breath tickling her skin. A slight smile played on her face, and she looked over her shoulder at her only friend. Otogi give her a wink back, then proceeded to look bored of the whole operation. She turned again to face the front, her happiness breaking through the frown, transforming it into a happy smile.  
  
Maybe French isn't that bad. She decided, using her slender fingers to roll her pencil around the desk. As always, Mr. Ian Torreli strode into the room five minutes late. He dropped into the desk at the front of the room, and glared at them all.  
  
"I suppose no one will admit to writing 'Mistar Torreli is a azz cracker' on the boys bathroom wall?" their teacher asked, eyebrow arching above his glasses to his hairline. There were many snickers, but as foretold, no confessions. "Well, if they are going to insult me, next time, remember, and use proper grammar and spelling! Here, I'll show you, even though it's Ellen's job."  
  
Mr. Torreli proceeded to write on the board, 'Mr. Torreli is an ass cracker.' Shizuka sighed, and put her chin and her hand and watched as her teacher went ballistic about the insult. Poor Ellen, or Ms. Sournate, would be so embarrassed when she found out. She was a sweet, mild English teacher, who happened to be dating Mr. Torreli. She was so meek class was more like recess. It was a madhouse, and nothing got learned unless you begged for the assignment. AND she gave everybody A's no matter if you went insane trying to remember the difference of synonyms and antonyms or you sat on you butt like an idiot and threw spitballs. And her teacher's note for everyone was 'They're such a good kid!'  
  
Shizuka began to idly twiddle with her braid, a long rope of crimson hair, in her bored-ness. Was that bad grammar? How should she know, Ms. Sournate never really taught class. Finally Mr. Torreli began with actual French class.  
  
"Alright, like this. Mi-" He was cut short by the steady bring of the bell. "Alright, everyone out. And don't let me see any bad constructed insults! Make a draft, second draft, and then final copy! And why not put it on a poster instead of on the school's wall?"  
  
Shizuka picked up her books and slid out the door. Otogi bounded after her, flipping through his work.  
  
"Goddamn, who do they think I am? Super Man? I'd rather be Dice Man anyway!" he asked her as he flipped through the pages. "Math, Science, French, Social Studies, blah, blah, blah..."  
  
"Nice to see you too," She replied with a yawn.  
  
"Babe, do you know what this means?" Otogi asked with extra fervor, actually turning to face her, mock terror spread over his face. Shizuka, in mid yawn, blinked at him.  
  
"You've got a lot of homework tonight?" she asked innocently, finishing her yawn, and stretching her other arm (the one that wasn't covering her yawn). Otogi made a face, and then sighed for her sanity.  
  
"No, silly. Don't you know that you yawn because there isn't enough oxygen in your brain?" he told her with several dramatic gestures and of course lots of throwing dice up and down in a very kakkoi way. Shizuka's eyebrow rose to her hairline, and she groaned.  
  
"That is absolutely idiotic. Shouldn't it be the other way around, you have too much oxygen in your brain? Because when you yawn, you exhale, not inhale. And you do it only when you are tired. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. If I'm wrong, you can take me out to a field and blow my brains out."  
  
"Awww, why would I do that? I'd rather date you instead. Hey, let's make a bet! If I'm right, you have to date me again, if I'm wrong, I'll ask again later."  
  
"Ugh, get another date." Shizuka groaned, placing a hand on her forehead.  
  
"A bet it is!" Otogi grinned. "Do you wanna go out tonight, in calibration of our bet?"  
  
"I can't. I've got to work at the diner, and the nightshift. I've got no time." Shizuka observed blandly, checking her five-dollar watch. Otogi groaned.  
  
"Why don't you quit the stupid nightjob and let me help you out?" Otogi asked, rubbing his head from the headache she had suddenly given him.  
  
"Oh, really. Joey's would die if Mai tells him I've helped her out," Shizuka replied, throwing her bag over her shoulder. "And he'd kill me if he knew it was on charity! I don't want to be the reason of both a murder and a suicide."  
  
"If Joey knew what your job was he'd kill you."  
  
"So? It doesn't matter. It's the only well-paying job I can apply for. I'm not a genius, Otogi. I couldn't become a brain surgeon."  
  
"Yes you could! With a few years of school-"  
  
"Otogi, I don't have a few years! I've got ONE year, at the most, to help Mai. I can't wait to get a degree in anything. And money is disappearing faster than I can make it. Mai's having another baby, and..."  
  
"I know, Shiz. Keep it together, Babe. I know you can do it."  
  
Shizuka gave her friend a sad smile, but nodded.  
  
"See you on Saturday?" He asked gently. She shook her head grimly, sad blue eyes locking with his.  
  
"I'm working all-day, all-night tomorrow," she whispered. "If Joey calls, I'm with you, 'kay?"  
  
"Sure," Otogi grinned, throwing his arm around her shoulder. Usually she would have groaned and thrown it off, or brushed it off gently, or stepped away from him entirely, but today, she smiled and let that arm stay.  
  
***  
  
Shizuka fanned her face, which instead of being hot was cold and pale white. God damn these stupid corsets. And night shifts. And the diner. She had so little sleep this week she could barely move. And everyone could tell she wasn't well when they looked at her, even with all of her makeup. Damn this.  
  
And to top it off, the manager at the diner had told her that if she didn't shape up, he was going to have to fire her. It wasn't her fault she had no time to go to school, work at the diner, and dance around on a stage for perverted old men. She didn't have the energy to do all that and not eat properly. But the damned measure every week that decided if you were fired out put on hold.  
  
Every Wednesday, the owner would come around and have you strap yourself into a corset and then he'd measure your waist. If it was above eighteen inches around your were fired. So far, Shizuka hadn't missed the deadline, because she was naturally slender, but she didn't dare eat anything but low fat yogurt and salad. And, of course, her new best friend, the saltine cracker.  
  
She leaned against the wall, and broke into a large yawn. She was so tired. On Sunday, she'd eat well, sleep well, and be well, so she could endure another week of torture.  
  
"Hey, you are on in five with LeAnne, Charlotte didn't measure in," Tokimo said, poking her head in. Shizuka sighed. Those idiot American girls, getting hooked on things they had no need in doing and were doing this for personal enjoyment. She had to do this. Charlotte had been okay, but she hadn't known a word of Japanese. She was doing it to keep her family up and running, but she had failed, and she wasn't really that beautiful, either. She would have been fired eventually.  
  
Shizuka pulled on her heels, and strapped them easily. She closed her eyes to keep out the thoughts of self-hatred and pity. She again laid blush on her cheeks and stepped out into the hall.  
  
That hall had become a nightmare for her. She heard her steps echoing through the room, across the slate floor. Cold air bit at her skin, and her heart seemed to pound in her ears instead of her chest. Her whole body quivered because it knew where it was going. She saw LeAnne, who was wringing her hands and looking nervously about. She stopped next to LeAnne and the door, and wanted to kill herself.  
  
Damn.  
  
***  
  
Buffing his nails in a bored fashion, he pondered as to why he was here again. None of the really appealed to him, and it was just a waste of time, really. It was nonsense, and he should be working on a program or something functional instead of trying to figure out why he was here.  
  
It wasn't because of that girl. At least he didn't think it was. Had he somehow unconsciously become addicted to cheap stripping? He never had thought he would stoop that low. If he truly desired this, he could go to a classier one. But that was a waste of money, and considering how much he had, that was really saying something...  
  
He took a sip of the odd concoction he had been forced to buy at the door. It wasn't bad, but he still liked his good expensive wine better. Or coffee. Yes, coffee. That was what he truly desired right now. He began to wonder if he should go and get a cappuccino when that girl came on the stage.  
  
Instead of being on the pole, she danced and tossed her clothes (Most of them, anyway) and danced and wiggled and awed all the perverts there. She didn't get half as much money, but she put it in exact same place, (Kami- sama only knows how she managed to make that sexual) and then she sauntered out, leaving the other to be fondled.  
  
For a mere second, he saw her in a good lighting. She looked angered, sad, and extremely tired all at the same time. But what really lingered was the disgusted look. Interesting.  
  
He never took attractions to dating. If they attracted him, it usually was their spirit or beauty and he wanted to crush them, show them how insignificant they were. To snap them and their emotions. Bring them to the edge and watch them fall. Something told him she would be easy to break.  
  
***  
  
She wondered if she could feel anything but tired about right now. She had spent the whole night here, throwing all of her clothes everywhere. The rings under her eyes and taken half of her make-up to cover up. She slid on her halter top and her dark jeans. She clipped up her hair and slid in her earrings. She had to look like she and Otogi had been out on a date. She clipped on some black strappy heels.  
  
She decided she would count her earnings before she left. She separated all the ones, fives, tens, and the small amount of twenties into separate piles, trying her best not to fall asleep. Her eyes were begging to be shut and she couldn't keep them open. She shut them, just to rest her sore eyes, not to sleep.  
  
She was so sore, she could barely stand it. Just the thought of being in bed right now made her skin tingle. She grabbed all her money and swiftly stuffed it in her pocket. She'd count it tomorrow, and put it in the bank. But right now, she couldn't think of anything but her apartment.  
  
She scooped up her things and went out the door. The blast of cold air bit her in the face, and she grimaced. Why was it so damned cold here at night? She pulled on her tan overcoat and buttoned it swiftly, in vain trying to keep out the cold. She had yet group therapy tonight. Damn it. Why had she signed up for that anyway?  
  
She glanced to her left, and there stood a handsome young man glaring and scowling at everything and everyone. Hmm. Not a person to socialize with. She fumbled with the keys. She wondered if it was safe to drive a motorcycle when one could barely see. Oh well, it was her only source of transportation. She checked her watch. 7:15. Just enough time to get to the campus building before 7:30.  
  
She climbed aboard the motorcycle and turned the key, pulling the machine into gear. Then she zoomed off, hair flying in a sheet behind her. The wind bit and stung at her cheeks, but it woke her up. She had always loved riding motorcycles. Honda, her very first boyfriend, had one. They had broken up, not because he was a horrible guy, but just because they felt more like friends then otherwise. Of course there was Otogi. She and him had dated on and off since she had broken up with Honda. But there wasn't the chemistry she yearned for in a relationship.  
  
After awhile of intense winds, she found the building. It looked large and ominous, not something she wanted to go into right now. But you have to, she told herself, swinging off the motorcycle. She tugged at a fine crystal necklace around her neck and bit her lip. She raked her fingers through her hair, and then laced it up in a braid. Better than nothing.  
  
The snooty guy she had seen at work passed sniffly by her. She frowned at him. Something told her she would see more than she'd like of him.  
  
To be continued!  
  
***  
  
HIM!: This is going to be a sad fic. Weep. I hate when I write sad fics... R&R if you please!  
  
Silvie: Bwahaha! Fwee for angst!! *plots angst fic* ^_^ Yay angst!!  
  
HIM!: ...Not you again. Go away. *makes shooing motions with hands* 


	2. Chapter Two

Breaking Point  
  
2nd Chapter: Group therapy  
  
By Shimmersea  
  
DISCLAIMER: When wills the day come that I actually OWN something? I don't even own my pet ferret! NOT FAIR! I guess I own my muses, though...  
  
Muses: Quite contrary, we own YOU! *lighting gets dramatic and they all laugh evilly*  
  
HIM!: *turns on lights* -_-;;  
  
Muses: Eh... *look stupid*  
  
HIM!: *sigh*  
  
Silvie: ...But I'm YOU!.  
  
Muses: ...We own HIM! then.  
  
HIM!: ...TOTALLY FEMININE!!!  
  
***  
  
Much to her amazement, the room was warm and inviting. The room was almost bigger than her apartment (Which wasn't saying all that much) and most of it housed a circle, rather, an oval of chairs. At the other end of the room, there was a table with snacks and drinks.  
  
There were more than she expected there. There was the arrogant, sniffly 'I'm better than all of you weaklings' guy, and about ten or twelve more people, excluding her and the aforementioned trenchcoat guy. Most of the chairs had been taken, and people were separated into a few groups, with a chair in-between.  
  
Not to break the cycle, she seated herself stiffly near the guy who was staring at everyone like he was considering the best possible death for him (or her, depending where he was looking). She wrinkled her nose. His trenchcoat smelled, even though it was pretty cool. She could tell it cost a lot, made of a fine material. She wanted to touch it, see how it felt, but she tugged on her necklace instead.  
  
The guy looked over at her suddenly, and caught her glancing at him. He had no way of knowing it was nothing but a passing glance, so she looked at another guy, who had white hair and blood red eyes (Oooh, freaky) and was dusting a red stain on his shirt. She wondered what that stain was... Maybe... Ketchup? Maybe she'd ask later...  
  
...On second thought, maybe not.  
  
Suddenly, a sunny looking woman appeared. She grinned widely at them all.  
  
"My my! What a turnout! Make yourselves comfortable!" She said, extending her arms, as if she wanted them to race into them like bawling children (A girl whimpered and did so). The ketchup (cough cough) stain guy grinned fiendishly and sat upside down in the chair by putting his back on the seat, and his legs up and over the back. Serenity scooted away from him, closer to the trenchcoat guy. "Alrighty, chose a partner, everyone!" she grinned, patting the girl on the back. A girl somehow appeared, and tapped the trenchcoat guy on the shoulder.  
  
"You are MY partner!" she said, and then burst into giggles. They guy looked very sour. Serenity stood up, looking for the most normal looking person. Everyone had flown like the partner of the trenchcoat guy to everyone but the upside down guy.  
  
Serenity began to wonder if she'd make it out alive.  
  
***  
  
Everything was different when you were upside down. When you were upside down, it sort of brought solace to see familiar things in a new way. Not that it really mattered, but still, it was kind of interesting. No need think about that, though. Now he could yell mentally at Yadonushi to come out again.  
  
...It wasn't working. Damn the treacherous boy.  
  
He noticed a young girl, staring in his direction, as if pondering approaching him. She twirled a strand of red hair around her finger, and bit her lip. She was familiar, somehow... He couldn't exactly place it. She had dark rings under her eyes. Was she starving herself? Anorexia, or Bulimic, or both, maybe.  
  
He had taken it upon himself to learn every single way to damage oneself. He knew a lot now... When he had an audience (which was rare) and he had run out of things to say (Which was, by the way, even rarer) he would state simply one of the more gruesome ones to scare them off.  
  
She nodded her head, stood up, and walked over to him. She stood in front of him, blinking down at him.  
  
"Hi," she managed shyly.  
  
He didn't say anything.  
  
"There's no one left..."  
  
Nothing.  
  
"So I came over here..."  
  
Nothing. She looked disinclined, about to leave. But then she popped in another word, which was weird, because the silent 'I'm better than you' treatment usually scared everyone but the strong willed off, and she didn't come across as strong willed.  
  
"Is that ketchup, on your shirt?" she asked. He looked puzzled, and she crouched next to him and pointed, finger barely grazing his blue and white striped shirt. As if his shirt had bit her, she recoiled swiftly.  
  
"Where?" He asked coyly. She leaned forward and poked the stain stubbornly, giving him ample sight at her cleavage (Another great thing about being upside down). She wasn't too bad, actually... She didn't seem to notice where his glance had strayed, and bounced on her heels, expecting an answer.  
  
He glanced at the shirt, and slightly dusted off the stain.  
  
"No, it's not ketchup." He said, petting it like it was a trophy. She blinked, and chewed her lip.  
  
"Salsa?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Wine?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Ink?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Lipstick, paint, marker?"  
  
"No, no, and no."  
  
"Kool-aid?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Jell-o?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Nail polish?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Eye makeup?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Dust?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Embossing powder?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Food coloring?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Spaghetti sauce?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing," she breathed. "Is it-"  
  
"Something that flows in our veins? Yeees." He drawled. She gave a slight grimace. Suddenly, the sound of a girl bursting into tears was heard. The girl he was bickering with turned, showing off unknowingly her graceful neck. The girl with the Bastard (He didn't dare speak his name, less the word would get stuck on his tongue) sobbed openly into the teacher, somehow adding in complaints about the bastard along the lines of 'unfeeling' and 'wretched' and 'horrible'. She was quite light on him, actually, there were hundreds of words much harsher than that that he could use to describe that guy.. Both lives, really. There was an equation in time that always would the same.  
  
Kaiba = &^%(*&^% Bastard. Simple, yet brilliant, no?  
  
"Ummmmm..." the girl was saying, staring at him nervously. "Areyoureyesreallythatcolor?" she blurted out. He gave off one of his patented mysterious-yet-evil smirks.  
  
"Why don't you guess?" he purred, closing his eyes halfway.  
  
/You sound like a cat,/ Yadonushi grumped. /And you're ruining my reputation./  
  
//Then why don't you come out and fix it then.// he snapped. Yadonushi huffed, then retreated again. Humph. He was sure grumpy.  
  
...Geesh, was that teacher stupid or something? She had just called another girl to talk with Kaiba... What the hell was he doing here anyways?  
  
***  
  
His gaze slowly was pulled to the girl who was talking to him. It really came out more as nonsense, really. More like she was repeating 'I'm an idiot, I'm an idiot' again and again. He wished he had brought his laptop. Or caffeine... Yes, caffeine... He wanted his coffee.  
  
"-So anyways, I've got eight boyfriends and two girlfriends, and I can't decide which I like better, male or female... Because me and my girlfriends make a really hot threesome but I somehow doubt I can get all my boyfriends to participate, but I can't dump them because I love them so much..."  
  
"Stop your useless chattering." He ordered. "It's not like I care about your pitiful remains of a life, anyway."  
  
The girls lower lip waggled, and she began shrieking like he had gutted her through. Just like the other girl he had been talking to, who had claimed him before he could flee as fast as possible? The teacher swooped in again, and gave him a look of sympathy. At that moment, a blonde walked into the room.  
  
Brother. (And Mokuba appeared. Heehee) Were all the convicts in Domino coming here? If so, all they needed was Mouto with his weird personalities and idiotic puzzle... That thing was so STUPID, he could barely put it into words... He had noticed Bakura boredly associating with that girl who he had followed here, and also he had caught him checking her out. Not that it bothered him, it just surprised him mildly that the fiend to pleasure in a sight other than Mouto's head on a silver platter.  
  
Well, anyways, the new convict swooped in on Bakura.  
  
"Ishtar."  
  
"Bakura."  
  
Both glared at each other hatefully, and for a moment, it seemed the whole room was silent, watching them. Then Bakura extended his hand to Ishtar and they grinned.  
  
"How's the search for the God Cards?"  
  
"Tsk, not good." Ishtar replied, tapping his odd stick against his palm. "Any other Millennium Items?"  
  
"Nope, cornered the Pharaoh yesterday, wouldn't give it up..."  
  
"Not surprising," replied Ishtar mildly. "Who's she?"  
  
"Shizuka," the girl piped up, filling the blank.  
  
"Malik Ishtar, the most brilliant and remarkable gangsta ever known." Malik grinned. "Nice to meet ya! Have you any interest in joining my internationally known gang of mysterious card thieves?" Shizuka made a face.  
  
"I don't think so," she replied. "Sorry."  
  
"Aww, that's too bad! We need more hot chicks around..."  
  
"Dearling?" The teacher asked, and all the girls and even one boy turned to look at her. She pointed at Shizuka and beckoned her forward. Cautiously, she approached. "Will you be partners with dearest Seto here? He lost his partner."  
  
"NO! Don't let the bastard infect her!" screamed Malik, as Bakura fell off his chair. Shizuka looked at her as if she were insane. Bakura began to curse in Italian (Why Italian? Because he knew so many curses in so many languages he couldn't remember which one he was speaking). Seto wished he were far, far, away. Mildly, as if a mouse approaching a cat, she sat down next to him.  
  
Again the room was silent.  
  
***  
  
Shizuka wrung her hands. What could she say to a man who had made two girls wail in less than a span of five minutes? Nothing, probably. But everyone was staring at them. She glanced at him, knowing if words were to be exchanged she'd have to start them. Doubt hung heavy in her mind that he would reply, but at least she would try.  
  
"Were you forced here too?" she asked, as the doubt began to choke her.  
  
"I'm not going to grace you with that knowledge," he replied. Well, he had said something.  
  
"Uh, I don't think you want to talk, so I won't say anything." She said. That should work, wouldn't it? He didn't want to talk and she didn't want to talk to him, so this was the best way.  
  
"Why are YOU here?" he sneered. She blinked; thinking that each would be silent, and his words shocking her.  
  
"My teacher thinks I'm starving myself," she muttered.  
  
"I think there's more than that," he replied, and if he had perfected his evil grin as Bakura and Malik had, he would use it on her now. But he was still practicing. But he had gotten his evil laugh down. But not the grin. He needed to work on that one. He could smirk! He had patented the evil smirk (Literally) (As in you could get arrested if you pulled a 'Seto Kaiba'). But it wasn't the same.  
  
"She's also worried I don't get enough sleep," she supplied helpfully, tucking a strand of her brilliant tresses behind her ear. 'Seto' raised his eyebrow to his hairline.  
  
"And...?" he asked, expectantly. She wasn't sure what he wanted. Did he know about her nightjob? Duh. He had been at work. It was a major coincidence that he was here... Was he following her? She shook her head. She was too paranoid. Stalking HER of all people? Yeah right.  
  
Anybody with sense would stalk a pretty, happy person, not her.  
  
No, not her.  
  
Seeing she wouldn't crack, he went another way.  
  
"What's your state of employment?"  
  
"My job, you mean? I work at a Diner, and in a Clothing store, and I also have an, um, nightjob."  
  
"What is that?" he asked impatiently, annoyed at how long it was taking to worm it out of her.  
  
"Um, I'm a performing artist," she stuttered, her face getting red.  
  
"Oh, is THAT what you call it." He drawled. "Really."  
  
***  
  
"Alright, everyone! Let's stop conversing! Quiet, please! I'd like to everyone to introduce himself or herself! Alright, we'll start with you."  
  
Bakura had righted himself, as the blood had been draining to his face, leaving it unnaturally red.  
  
"I am Bakura-SAMA. Remember the Sama, or I'll have to kill you." Bakura grinned, flashing his canines in his demented grin. Then his features softened, and he insisted: "No, no, it's just kun... Bakura-kun. SAMA! I mean SAMA!!" (He continued to argue with himself, but we won't talk about that right now)  
  
"And I am Malik Ishtar, and I am the leader of the mysterious gang that steals cards. If you happen to come by a rare card, tell me, so I can steal it from you. If you want, I can even give you a list of what I want! Or you could join! I could always take in a hot chick!! And if you want one, I'm giving away Isis' chickens! But don't tell her. She likes her chickens, even though they have no real purpose, really..."  
  
Then there were other scattered names, like Hoishi, Hiyruu, Martha, and Todd. Nothing to really account. When it came to his turn, he glared around the room. The teacher and class waited expectantly.  
  
"Um, this is Seto." Shizuka supplied for him, eyeing him warily. "His voice hurts, so... Yeah. And I'm Shizuka. Nice to meet you."  
  
The teacher grinned widely and clapped her hands. Serenity ignored the cold glare she received from Seto, but looked expectantly at the teacher.  
  
"Alright, now, share something you'd like to."  
  
"I like to play Monster World. Does anyone want to play Monster World with me?" Inquired Bakura, canines glinting. Everyone shook his or her head quickly.  
  
"I like to perform ritual dances and kill Isis' chickens!!!!" Malik cheered.  
  
"I don't know him," Bakura said, jabbing a finger in Malik's direction. "I really don't."  
  
"Um, Seto's not social," Serenity added for the silently fuming young man when his turn came around. "And I like doughnuts."  
  
"Well, my name is Karen." The teacher said. "And I used to smoke. It's a nasty habit. But I quit. Let's see. It's time for use to leave, but I can't wait to see you back here! And might I add that you are now committed to come for the full three-month session. I have eight older brothers who can come get you. With warrants."  
  
She smiled evilly at Seto. Damn. She had perfected what he could not! She would die!  
  
"By the way, I want each of you to find your partner and talk to them for a little while. Just talk. Right? Okay, you can go."  
  
Maybe Karen didn't hear the cheers. But she could have ignored them.  
  
***  
  
Once outside, Serenity went immediately to her bike. Had she known she would be committed to this... She never thought! Well, anyway. Bakura and Malik ran out.  
  
"Hey, Shiz. Can I get you number, in case I must contact you?" asked Malik sweetly. Serenity shrugged.  
  
"I guess," she replied, pulling out a pre-written number. "There you go."  
  
"Shall we indulge in evil laughter?" Bakura asked, brushing his uh, stain.  
  
"I think we shall!" Malik grinned, striking an odd pose. Bakura yawned, showing off extremely pointy teeth. Malik elbowed Bakura in the ribs. Bakura blinked. But then he actually got it and also struck a very cool pose.  
  
So both Bakura and Malik began to laugh... well, evilly. Seto was inclined to join, but decided against it to keep face. Unless he was in private or about to be in/in the middle of a duel, it made him look stupid. But Bakura and Malik pulled it off quite well. Shizuka slid onto her motorcycle, and rubbed her sore eyes.  
  
She yawned, and began thinking of her bed... Ooh, that sounded good right now.  
  
To be continued... Maybe. *Laughs evilly and ominous music plays and storm starts, and the lights flicker ominously*  
  
Julia: Good affects, cuddles.  
  
HIM!: ... Why are you here, Julia?  
  
Julia: Hmm. That is a good question, cuddles. I'll think about it. *Thinks* Well, after much consideration, cuddles, I don't know. ^^  
  
HIM!: *Sigh* This chapter is humorous, compared to the eventual context of the fic.  
  
Julia: Cookie, cuddles?  
  
HIM!: ... Okay. *Takes one*  
  
Julia: I like cookies, cuddles.  
  
HIM!: Uh, yeah.  
  
Julia: I think I shall try a new word, cuddles. What do you feel about butter, butter?  
  
HIM!: Butter?  
  
Julia: Yes butter, butter.  
  
HIM!: I like cuddles better.  
  
Julia: Okay then, butter- I mean, cuddles.  
  
HIM!: Eh. R&R, if you please. I intend to update every Sunday, so that's when you can expect, well, updates. Thanks to all of my reviewers, I really appriciate it! ^-^  
  
Julia: Are you sure you don't like butter, butter?  
  
HIM!: *Sighs* Yes, J-chan.  
  
Julia: Okay then, cuddles.  
  
RP: Ippity!!!  
  
Silvie: *drags Julia back to account* Bad muse! Running away from home!  
  
Julia: ^^ Bye, cuddles!  
  
Silvie: Hush you. *duck tapes her mouth shut*  
  
Julia: *still happy* ^^ 


	3. Chapter Three

Shizuka was in a rather good mood when she stepped on the school building. She had eaten, slept, and was lazy all day yesterday, but she hadn't really gotten over the wear-and-tear of the past week, and fatigue was evident, but the happiness radiated through it. She had decided to let her hair loose, to show her fellow classmates her happy mood.  
  
She tugged discretely on the uniform before entering class. She tiptoed to her desk, and opened it, and searched for her purse. She thought she had left it here on Friday... Where had it gone? Now her mind began to register the smothered giggles, and the hidden chuckles. She stopped rummaging in her desk, and began to wonder what they were laughing at.  
  
She closed her desk, and looked behind her. All of her classmates were looking at her, some stiffing laughs, others pointing at her and laughing outright. One girl wiggled in a seductive fashion. Finally, she turned around, and finally noticed the large, insulting sprawl on the chalkboard.  
  
SHIZUKA JOUNOUCHI IS A SLUT.  
  
It felt as if a tear had gone straight through her, piercing her heart and dragging itself down while burring deepened. Pain screamed in her head, and tears threatened to come. God, what had she done to deserve this? How did they all know? Now that she had noticed, people didn't bother to cover up their jeers.  
  
The laughed and screamed in the hilarity written on the board. Of course, she had to be her unobservant self and not notice until now... Her face reddened, and she tugged at her collar in a futile attempt to calm down. This just made them laugh even louder.  
  
"You wanna take off your shirt? Go ahead! God knows every man on the planet knows what's under there!" Shizuka choked. She closed her eyes, squinting to keep tears from flying. She could deal; she'd be okay... A small salty drop landed on her hand, which was now clenched into a fist.  
  
She couldn't take this. She wouldn't let them see her cry. She stood up abruptly, her metal chair squeaking on the floor. She walked straight up to the chalkboard, snatched a piece of chalk, and ripped it across the humiliating words with a loud, silencing screech. The laughing and jeering stopped.  
  
She dropped the chalk, and with the silence of the room, everyone heard the shatter as it hit the floor. Like her heart had not thirty seconds ago. But then, everyone was too busy laughing. Finally, she sighed mentally. They've stopped... They're not laughing anymore... They aren't laughing...  
  
Then, a giggle escaped from someone. She couldn't tell whom. More followed, until the class was again jeering and laughing at her, pointing at her, insulting her. Again, her heart tore in two with the horrendous pain of being rejected. She couldn't help racing from the room. In the empty hall, she let her sobs break out. She choked and spluttered on them, and her breaths quickly became ragged.  
  
She would get her purse out of her locker... Then she could call a taxi and go home. To her apartment, where she could yell and scream and throwing things if she damn well liked. She tried to keep her composure, but in the end, she raced to her locker. She fumbled with her combination twice, before opening it successfully.  
  
A bundle of things fell out on her, and something scratched her forehead. In her locker, a card stood in the middle of it, in front of her purse. She meekly took it out, and opened it.  
  
JUST IN CASE YOU NEED MORE TO THROW.  
  
She looked at her feet, and around her, flooding over her feet, was about twenty pairs of bras.  
  
***  
  
Otogi, being his usual, cool self, had come ten minutes late. Well... He actually hadn't meant to, he missed his alarm. Well, anyhow, he was arriving on the school grounds fashionably late, he heard quiet laughter. It must have been far away. Or really quiet... Argh, thinking wasn't helping right now...  
  
Shut up, brain. He instructed his brain. His brain rattled off how it was possible that it wasn't far away, but not that loud either. I said SHUT UP, Brain! This time his brain meekly was subdued. Ah, blessed ignorance. But then, his brain had to talk again.  
  
'Hey, look, it's Shizuka!' his brain said perkily.  
  
'Stop being so perky- Shizuka?'  
  
'Yeah! But she's sad.' His brain sent of waves of unhappiness.  
  
'Then we gotta help her!' he said, switching on to Hero mode.  
  
'Yeah, yeah! Now go, foo!'  
  
'All right! ... Wait, now I have to figure out how to make her feel better...'  
  
'Just go, or you'll miss her!' his brain insisted.  
  
Okay, so Otogi had discussions with his brain. No big deal! He wasn't half as bad as Yugi and his 'Yami' so he was so bad. Yugi was thwacked, that was for sure... Just then, Shizuka ran into him. She burst into tears again, and tried to get away. He grabbed her by the shoulders, and forced her to stop.  
  
She looked at him, and he could see the pain laced in her eyes. Tearstains streaked down her face, and her eyes were red from crying. The sight of her made his heart break. She trembled, and then yanked away and out the door.  
  
***  
  
She probably should have found a place to be calm, settle down. She should have thought of what she would do next, instead of springing into a stupid path of action. Her vibrant hair was pulled up in a ponytail, and she stared at the drink in front of her.  
  
Should she drink it?  
  
She hadn't hesitated for the first three, and there was only slight resistance to the next two... But was she going to far? She bit her lower lip, and pushed a loose strand behind her ear. Fresh tears didn't hesitate to flow, still. She couldn't stand the pain.  
  
She snatched the drink and downed it all at once, the burning liquid leaving a blazing, yet satisfying aftertaste on her throat. Of all the places she could have run to. To her apartment, to her brothers, to Anzu's, maybe. Not the goddam place where she gave the people the reason to torment her.  
  
Yes she was wasting her money right where she had painstakingly earned it, the idiot she was, and she had run to the exact place where she danced around the stage, earning the torment. They had no right... They didn't know why she was doing this.  
  
She was no addict. She wasn't paying off massive credit card bills. She wasn't in it for the lust or the ecstasy or the power over men. She wasn't here to flaunt her body to the greedy pigs that watched her.  
  
She remembered being young, and playing with Joey at the park... And he had run off with friends, leaving her there. She had no idea what to do, so she did what any three year old would do- Scream.  
  
She couldn't say how long she had stood there screaming, but after awhile, a woman dressed in red came up to her.  
  
'Are you lost, little one?' she had asked in a soothing, caring voice. She remember wiping her eyes, and then sucking on her hand instead of replying. The woman seemed to get the message though, because she scooped her up and patted her on the back.  
  
The woman was very nice to her, and Serenity knew she meant no harm. But her mother appeared from fetching their ice cream and dropped the ice cream cones to below someone was kidnapping her child. Joey popped up from where his new friends were burring him in the sandbox, looking wildly around for his sister.  
  
The woman had immediately put her down, and patted her shoulder affectionately. She had whispered her name during the whole event, and Serenity still remembered it... Charlotte. What a pretty name. Then the woman had to run off, because Serenity's mother came towards them, twirling her purse like num chucks.  
  
She didn't know the woman's occupation then, but she did now. She was involved in it herself, how could she not? The seductive, figure-hugging red dress, the fishnets, the noticeable cleavage, engaging perfume... She had been too young to understand then, but she knew now the woman had been a slut.  
  
Serenity hated sluts, despised them, and hated her resemblance to them. She swore to herself she'd never lower herself to that state. Never. But for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to hate Charlotte, even though she had been near her for a mere five minuets. There was something about Charlotte that told her she was not someone in it for fun or for drugs.  
  
Was Charlotte out at night for the same reasons she was?  
  
Shizuka ordered another drink, anything to wash away her thoughts. At least her manager was letting her sit her and get drunk off her ass. It was illegal, but it was his money, so who cared?  
  
***  
  
As he watched her inhale what seemed like her eighteenth drink, he wondered how much she could drink. She wasn't showing much of the signs of being smashed: One, she wasn't bouncing off the walls or singing. Two, she wasn't throwing herself at the few who talked to her. And Three, she was moody. Drunken people aren't usually moody. Well, not most people. He was an exception.  
  
Even though he considered asking why she was so depressed, seeing she wasn't showing tell-tale signs of being smashed, she might not tell him and even worse, reckognise him. The last thing he wanted was her realizing who he was. It wasn't like she knew anyway, but being considered a stalker wasn't good for his social and political file.  
  
He knew she had seen him once or twice. He had noticed more than one glance at him at the stupid group therapy and at least one here. She drummed her fingers impatiently on the counter, and ran a hand through her now disgruntled hairstyle. Vibrant strands fell all over, in a less than appealing way. She looked healthier than she usually did, but not much.  
  
Her rings were gray, instead of dark black and purple. Her face wasn't as stark pale as it had been at group. But seeing as she was hysterical, her face should be much redder. But her waist had decreased, if that was even possible, and her blue eyes were lacking the sheen they usually portrayed.  
  
Of course, that might be the affects of the alcohol.  
  
He had no idea what he was here for. Maybe he had thought she skipped school to strut across the stage. Even though she wasn't in school at the present, he figured she did go, because at her feet was a bag, and schoolbooks spilled out of it as she had carelessly tossed it on the floor.  
  
Seemingly after hours and dozens of drinks, finally her drunkenness was evident. She was actually well composed up till the point she fell off her chair. No one moved to help her up, and he began considering she was unconscious, but then she propped herself up on her elbows.  
  
She sat up completely, and groaned. She sat there, lost, wondering how she could magically propel herself upward. After a while, she just flopped back down again, muttering something about the 'uselessness of male kind'. Her words were slightly sluggish, but otherwise, she seemed perfectly fine.  
  
After an even longer while, he stood up, and hovered above her. She might be unconscious. But when he looked down on her, her eyes opened, and startling blue eyes met his.  
  
She covered her eyes with her arm and muttered something again, but this time it was more gibberish that real words. A perfect time to talk to his unsuspecting victim. He grabbed her arm and yanked her up, and she went up like a shotgun.  
  
The sheer speed of the lift made her loose her balance, running right into him. She sighed and stayed there for a second, then fell over backwards, landing on her rump. She then proceeded to glare at him.  
  
"Yeah, REAL gentle." She muttered. He reached down to help her 'up' again, but she thwacked his hand. "No way, useless. I'll get up myself."  
  
He wanted to snort, and retort that she couldn't even tie her shoes in her state, but kept quiet for his curiosity's sake. She dragged herself up amazingly using the stool she had been sitting on, and ordered another drink.  
  
"Are you sure you can hold another one of those?" he asked rudely. In truth, he hadn't seen her go to the restroom since she had been here, and she had drunk more alcohol than her body weight. She sneered at him.  
  
"I can hold more than two times my body weight in alcoholic beverages. So there." She then drowned her words in another glass. He raised an eyebrow, and she leaned dangerously back, but then snapped back, and ordered another drink. The bartender refused.  
  
"I can't get you another till you pay me for the ones you've already drunk, miss. I'm truly sorry." The girl groaned, and looked down at her feet.  
  
"Hey, useless!" she called, pointing at her bag. "Get me my purse without running away with it and I'll buy you a drink."  
  
"You're offer is EVER so tempting," he drawled sarcastically, but bent down and got the bag for her. She dug in it, and pulled out a handful of bills.  
  
"Take what you need," she slurred, clasping the bag shut. The bartender counted the bills, and shook his head.  
  
"There's not enough here," he replied.  
  
"Shit," was the solemn reply the bartender received from the drunken woman. She again opened her bag, but it was empty. "Shit shit shit shit shit," she repeated, dropping her bag on the floor. She pounded her head on the bar.  
  
He groaned, and tossed a hundred at the bartender.  
  
"Oh wait, there is enough! Just a moment and I'll be back with your drink!"  
  
"Drinks," he corrected, sliding into the barstool next to her. She looked at him with sad blue eyes.  
  
"Whadda want?" she asked, managing to sit up.  
  
"Nothing," he replied casually. "Your hair's a mess."  
  
"So what? I don't care." She shrugged. But she pulled a comb out of her pocket and let down her hair, and raked the comb through. Eventually it looked more like hair instead of a mane so she pulled it back into its high tail. At least she looked more composed now.  
  
She rubbed her hands against her pants, even thought they weren't wet. He put his lips near her now exposed ear and whispered, "I know what your job is."  
  
Her face flushed, and she rubbed her ear where his face had been, moments ago. She looked embarrassed. The bartender came with the drinks and she gulped it down before he could even set it on the table. He noticed a silver cross necklace around her neck as she gulped down the beverage.  
  
"You Christian?"  
  
"Catholic," she replied, placing her glass down again. He tasted his beverage slowly, letting her own words sink in before he taunted her with his own.  
  
"Not a very befitting job for a catholic, don't you think?" he said quietly. She flushed again.  
  
"You going to drink that?" she asked, watching him set down his drink. Before he could answer, she drank it for him. She then dabbed her lips on a napkin, and cursed as ruby lipstick appeared on it. She pulled out a compact and did some touchup work as Kaiba ordered and the bartender fetched multiple glasses of the girl's beverage. The second they arrived, makeup was forgotten and she drank one hastily.  
  
This time, he took one for himself, and as he finished it she finished the last of the eight glasses the bartender had fetched. Now, even though these were very small portions, this was damn strong stuff. She should have collapsed by now. He'd have to get his questions in quick, before she exploded of too much alcohol.  
  
"Why do you do it? Sex? Money? Thrill?" he asked. She froze, and set her glass down.  
  
"No," she said, dangerously low, eyes lowering to the floor. And that was all she would say before walking to a hallway.  
  
Maybe he shouldn't have followed her. But the thought didn't cross his mind as he finished his drink and followed. Her steps were sluggish, and she was easy to follow. She was only halfway through the hall when she opened a door and basically fell in. When he came to the doorway, she was trying to recover, fingers clenched around a chair's arm.  
  
She was back to him, couldn't see him at all. Unless she was psychic, but he didn't believe in that super natural mumbo jumbo. And, pushing his luck even further, he continued to ask her a question.  
  
"Well," he drawled in the signature, badass fashion, "It would seem you are in it for money. I noticed how much you rake in. Is it for drugs? Or a pair of shoes?"  
  
It was like the whole room froze over, the whole world except the two in that room at the moment. He smirked, waiting to watch her cry. He had been right: She hadn't been hard to crack...  
  
But he didn't get the tears his heart so desired.  
  
"You bastard! You come in here and label me? I don't even KNOW you, and you DARE accuse me of doing this for fun? FOR FUN? Are you insane? Oh, wait. No, you aren't insane. You're RICH, and that's even worse than being insane. You were born above other people and you take it as your personal job to show everyone. You aren't like me, you weren't born poor, you weren't raised poor, and you aren't living poor, and you aren't going to die poor. I've gone through a thousand lives just by surviving this far. You have no idea what it's like, to have to live in constant fear. Every day you are waited on, and you have new, willing people to insult, and every night you have a nice, cozy house to return to with more insults to throw out, which seems to be a dream life for you. So you think my life is USELESS because I haven't got the cash to throw peoples misfortune in their face, eh? Listen up. You have no right, rich boy, to even begin to try and read me, because of your estimate, your reading is quite poor. So get the hell out and never, ever, approach me again."  
  
It was shocking, actually, the vocabulary this wench possessed. That was the first thing that crossed his mind. The second was searing anger. She dare threaten him? Accusing him of being carefree and happy all day? Far from it. Her alcohol seemed to drain away every second she looked at him, until finally, she removed her hands from the run down chair she had been getting support from.  
  
Filled with his anger, he swiftly grabbed her by the waist and slammed her against the wall. A thud satisfied his hope it was painful. He put either arm on the opposite side of her face so she couldn't get away, and he leaned in as close as he could. She wouldn't look at him, she stared at the floor, but no tears were in sight.  
  
"You low down piece of trash," he seethed, getting even closer, and delighting at the shiver that raced thought her body as his breath touched her skin. "You think you can stand there and rant to me about how great my life is? You have no idea. You don't know who I am, and you don't know my past. You have no idea what it's like to wake up, with all the riches in the world, and still be afraid. You wouldn't. You have no idea. So shut the hell up, or I'll cut out your tongue."  
  
Finally she looked at him, and the familiar blue eyes met his. He knew those eyes.  
  
They were... His eyes. He saw them every time he looked in a mirror. Her icy eyes were filled with bitter emotions: Hatred, anger, sadness, bitterness, remorse, and unhappiness. And the least likely off all: Pity.  
  
Those eyes matched his, almost exactly. And they echoed her soul just as they mirrored his. Looking at them haunted his very soul, remembering times when his eyes showed those emotions that had devastated him emotionally, mentally, and physically.  
  
Maybe that was what attracted him. Her eyes told the frightening story of pain and anger that scared him. Resemblance from him struck his heart. He had a photo at home, and he was about her age, from three, four years ago, and he had that Exact. Same. Look.  
  
Scared.  
  
Angry.  
  
Bitter.  
  
Depressed.  
  
...Alone...  
  
She stared at him defiantly, and then her eyes glazed over. Her breath became ragged, and her sad eyes closed in defeat.  
  
She collapsed into his arms.  
  
To be continued. ) 


	4. Chapter Four

Soft.  
  
Happy.  
  
Peaceful.  
  
There were times Shizuka's head didn't think in complete sentences. They would drag into just words, or colors sometimes. She couldn't yet comprehend why or how it happened, but that's how it went sometimes.  
  
Warm.  
  
Quiet.  
  
Dark.  
  
She allowed her eyes to flutter open. Darkness met them, and she closed her eyes again. Her head had been right, at least. A tingling pain arched across her scalp.  
  
Sore.  
  
Headache.  
  
Empty.  
  
Just as her brain addressed these subjects, the pain they brought echoed through her. Her head began to pound, limbs began to ache, and stomach began to growl.  
  
Sad.  
  
Hurt.  
  
Lost.  
  
She was sad... Something had happened yesterday. Hurt? More mentally than physically, she supposed. Lost? She wasn't lost, she knew where she was.  
  
Wait. No she didn't. She tried to recall the precise undertakings of yesterday, to trace her steps to where she currently resided. As she raked her brain for answers, slowly, it began to work properly.  
  
Woke up.  
  
Brushed teeth.  
  
Cooked for Joey but didn't eat.  
  
Went to school.  
  
Otogi not on the bus.  
  
Arrived in class.  
  
Saw blackboard.  
  
A tearing pain washed over her. She felt as if she had suddenly become heavy and was presently sinking deeper into the mattress.  
  
Got scared.  
  
Ran off.  
  
Got purse from locker.  
  
Again was tormented.  
  
She could still see in her mind's eye that pool of lacy, white satin. She pulled her knees to the side, flipping herself unto the side without meaning it. She flexed her fingers slowly, and wagged them, all ten, just to be sure they were all attached.  
  
Ran away.  
  
Ran into Otogi.  
  
Went to bar.  
  
Got smashed.  
  
As if to deeper establish the point, her head seared with pain. Stupid hangovers.  
  
Met guy.  
  
Guy bought me MORE drinks.  
  
Got even more smashed.  
  
Okay, progress. She couldn't really remember the guy all that well, though. And still didn't explain why she was in a large, comfortable bed.  
  
Guy said something.  
  
Went to dressing room.  
  
Was pursued.  
  
What? Hold up, who had stalked her? She searched, but couldn't find anything.  
  
Was insulted.  
  
Blew up at guy.  
  
Guy blew up back.  
  
Blue eyes.  
  
Nothing.  
  
She opened her eyes. It wasn't much different this time around either. Dark. Dreary. But the bed was comfortable. She let her eyes flutter for a moment, before pondering on the heavy task of wondering what to do.  
  
Thankfully, someone else did that for her.  
  
***  
  
"WAKE UP!!!" He roared, banging a gong. He peered into the bed, which was surrounded by a curtain. Even so, he could see the shadow of someone (there was her chest; he went for feminine) bolting up, and covering her ears. Grinning, he dropped the gong (causing the person to shriek), and bounced over to the bed, and drew the curtains.  
  
No, this was not Seto on a sugar high. This was his young brother, Mokuba. Mokuba did his best to cross his arms and look smug, as his older brother would do as the young woman took her hands from her ears and blinked at him.  
  
Mokuba wasn't surprised by her appearance. Did Seto ever bring home ugly girls? She was quite pretty with vibrant hair and pale skin and piercing eyes. She wore no makeup, but her skin was still as pale as death. She looked tired, even though she had been sleeping for three whole days.  
  
She rubbed her eyes, and then peered at him quizzically. Mokuba flashed her his adorable 'you can't be mad at me' smile, and she grinned back. She didn't look so weird when she smiled.  
  
"Hi. I'm Mokuba. You collapsed on my big brother." Mokuba said, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"I'm sorry, I certainly didn't mean to," she replied sweetly.  
  
"Are you sick? You don't look so well."  
  
"What- Oh. I look like this naturally." She said pulling a strand of hair from her face. "Some people are just pale, that's all."  
  
"Oh. Okay." Mokuba shrugged, willing to go with that. "The maids laundered your clothes. Lucy'll bring em up in a second."  
  
"Oh-h..." she looked down, and was obviously relieved to see a nightgown. "Pfew, I was afraid I was flashing you or something."  
  
"I wouldn't have minded," Mokuba grinned. The girl raised her eyebrow, and coughed a little bit. "That's Charlotte's, the maid that lives here."  
  
"Oh." She said, glancing at the bed in which she had been sleeping not long ago. "So, are you rich or something?"  
  
"Yeah." Shrugged Mokuba. "No biggie, right?"  
  
"Riiight," She replied. A subtle knock on the door sounded, and Lucy appeared with the washed, dried, ironed, starched, freshened, and shot-spotted clothes.  
  
"Well, I'll leave you ladies be, then. Lucy, show her the showers and the changing rooms."  
  
"Yes, Mr. Mokuba," the maid replied, bending into a deep curtsy, which she maintained until he had left the room. He heard their hushed voices the second he left the room. He shook his head of wild black locks, and wondered what to do next.  
  
What had he done already today?  
  
Well, gotten up at five. It was only nine now. Had breakfast. Checked on Nii-sama. (Good morning. Go eat.) Played video games. Bugged Nii-sama (Go away. We'll go to the movies). Showered. Tormented Nii-sama and the maids by running around naked (Put some clothes on, hooligan.). Got dressed. Annoyed Nii-sama (What now? I'm going to have to confiscate your sugar.). Watched TV. Aggravated Nii-sama. (Damn, Mokuba, what do you want?!) What else? Oh yeah, he had irritated Nii-sama! (I love you too, kiddo. Now go bug the maids.)  
  
What to do now?  
  
Exasperate Nii-sama!! (Yeah, he never did that)  
  
***  
  
"Are you sick, dear?" asked the kind older maid who was helping her out.  
  
"No, I look like this naturally," she lied, rubbing her forearms. "Why is it so cold in here?"  
  
"Mr. Kaiba likes it cold, dear." The woman replied, still watching her, as if she would collapse again. "Now, take off that nightgown and get in this tub."  
  
Shizuka wanted to comply, but couldn't. She had never been comfortable stripping down in front of people. It was infuriating and devastating when she got her job. In gym, she showered in a towel, and flattened herself against the lockers with the towel on her back to keep herself covered. Other girls would be chattering and bouncing, examining and exclaiming and pinching and poking, but she had never allowed herself in that ring.  
  
The maid noticed her hesitation, and stubbornly placed her hands on her hips.  
  
"Dearie, I have bathed both of the Kaibas until they grew out of it. One still hasn't. So lighten up both mentally and physically and take it off." She watched Shizuka until she saw her shirt go up, then continued filling the tub. Shizuka wiggled and tugged until the nightgown went off, leaving her in her 'essentials'. They weren't even hers, she noted. "In you go," demanded the maid, nodding toward the tub.  
  
Seeing the bubbly water, she did so. The maid noticed she hadn't taken off her undies. Cleverly, using skills only women in her work possessed, she sunk her shoulders under and then seconds later, pulled out both underclothes. The maid raised her eyebrow, but Shizuka was smug about her accomplishment in getting in without flashing someone.  
  
The maid, satisfied, scuttled off, getting bottles of this and spray bottles of that, from time to time adding more to the tub. Shizuka had nothing else to do than to watch her. In a pause of movement, the maid arrived by the side of the tub with a razor.  
  
"Leg," she demanded. Shizuka was scandalized.  
  
"What do you mean? This can't be part of your job," She replied, bending her legs the other way.  
  
"Leg!" repeated the maid, and as she refused a second time, the maid rolled her eyes, fished in the tub, and found it herself. "I have to do everything on the requirement list or risk being fired." She said softly, looking at Shizuka's leg. "My my, girl, do you wax? Not a hair on you."  
  
Shizuka coughed discreetly. The maid let her leg drop, and obediently Shizuka lifted up the other leg. The maid examined that leg too, and it turned out quite similar. After checking the underarms, the maid scuttled off again, returning not too long later with a large pitcher and two glass bottles. Before she could query the purpose of them, the pitcher was filled and dumped over her head.  
  
Sputtering, she brushed some hair back, only for it to fall in her face again as another torrent fell upon her. After about three more, the maid picked up one of the glass bottles, filled with a clear amber colored liquid. She pulled the matching glass-topped cork out and a rich, wonderfully fragrant scent filled the air. The whole bottle was the width and length of her hand, and smelled more like perfume than anything else. About half was used, and the maid slowly worked it into her scalp.  
  
Now, Shizuka was quite fond of her hair. She had always adored its bright color and long length. (She could swear she was born with long hair) And she tended to buy rather expensive treatments for her hair. But this outranked them all, and immediately she was entranced by the scent and the massage.  
  
"Damn," she muttered. "How rich is this guy?"  
  
"Pretty damn rich," established Lucy.  
  
***  
  
"Are you done yet?" asked Mokuba, politely knocking on the door.  
  
"Mmmmph," came a voice from the room. Mokuba took this as a 'yes' and opened the door. The young woman had a large, fluffy, KC marked towel on her hair and was shaking it like crazy. Lucy was folding the nightgown she had recently been in. Now she was wearing the entire outfit she had arrived in, including a tan coat.  
  
"Thanks for helping me out." The young woman told him, taking the towel off her head, revealing a headful of wild red hair. She dug in her pocket and took out a brush and tamed the mane, and did weird twisting and turning and snapping and did her hair. (It was hard for Mokuba to explain this. One: she did it too fast, and two: that was girly stuff in which he didn't associate)  
  
"You're welcome," Mokuba replied, preening as if he had done it all. The girl smiled warmly at him, and fumbled in her pocket.  
  
"What day is it?" she asked, raising her eyebrow neatly.  
  
"It's Wednesday. You were out for two days straight."  
  
"Where are we, exactly? I need to get home." The woman told him, pulling out a purple key chain with four or five keys and a little Kuriboh squeaky toy.  
  
"Right now? Oh, about 100 miles out of Domino." Mokuba replied. "In the mountains. This is our Vacation Home." The young woman coughed.  
  
"Look, that's really funny, kiddo. But I really have to get home. Tell me the truth!"  
  
"No, I mean it!" replied Mokuba. "We really are! Look out the window, and tell me! Does that look like the streets of Domino to you?"  
  
"Um, yeah. Okay, I believe you," she said, taking a deep breath, and returning the keys to her pocket. "Uh, is there, um, any way for me to get a ride, maybe?"  
  
"I dunno. I can't drive," Mokuba informed her.  
  
"I... Can see that," she said, sounding slightly exasperated. "Is there anyone that can who would?"  
  
"Yes. Nii-sama can drive. I can take you to him, if you want."  
  
"Okay," she said, giving him a nod. "Take me to your older brother."  
  
"Follow me," Mokuba instructed. He skipped off to the doorway. The woman stopped, dug in her purse, and gave MONEY to the MAID. It was the oddest thing Mokuba had ever seen. What had she done that for? Marie bowed, and the woman nodded, and thanked her. Mokuba took this time to clear his throat to make known his presence.  
  
The woman snapped out of it, and bowed to the maid, then ran over to him. She gave him a sheepish grin.  
  
"Sorry. We can go now." Mokuba glanced at her, then went of in a large stride, doing his best to seem important and impressionable, like Nii-sama. The fact was, he knew Nii-sama wasn't going to drive to town till Monday. But, he wasn't about to tell her that.  
  
She followed him neatly and obediently, and she looked at their priceless vases and irreplaceable paintings and expensive rugs. He could see on her face she thought it looked tacky. But she wasn't about to voice it. She was that polite type. If she knew how pricey some of these things were, she would take off those boots. But she didn't know, did she? Or maybe she did, and out of spite, was wearing them anyway. But he preferred the first alternative better.  
  
He felt a little vicious and led her around in circles, missing Nii-sama's office at least eight times. But around the ninth time, he stopped right next to his door and gave her a little smile. Mokuba did his best to look innocent.  
  
"Is this your brother's office?" she asked quietly.  
  
"Yes," he muttered. "How did you know?"  
  
"I don't know, maybe the sign that says 'Nii-sama's office'."  
  
"Oh," he said, abashed. She grinned at him, and he was secretly disappointed that he hadn't unearthed a psychic.  
  
"Thank you for bringing me here," she told him. She reached for the handle, but Mokuba found he had to state his peace.  
  
"Wait! Be sure to bow a lot, and call him Kaiba-sama, okay?"  
  
"... Okay." She agreed, again reaching for the door.  
  
"Wait!" Mokuba again cried out. "What's your name?"  
  
"I'm Shizuka," she told him. She gave him a small smile. "Thanks for helping me out, kiddo."  
  
"You're welcome," he replied, nodding. She too nodded, then opened the door and slipped in, and closed it shut behind her.  
  
He stood there, bouncing on his heels. Should he stay or should he go? He considered it then plastered his ear to the door.  
  
"-I'd like to thank you for your hospitality, and not to be rude or anything, but could I get-"  
  
"MOKUBA! STOP PRYING!" his Nii-sama's voice came from the office. Mokuba made a face. "AND STOP MAKING FACES!" Mokuba muttered at the cruelty of his brother knowing everything and stomped down the steps. He looked at the door where Shizuka and Seto were and sighed.  
  
She was really nice. Most of the girls Nii-sama did this to were mean and rude. But she was different. He couldn't tell how, and he couldn't tell why, but maybe... Maybe she would make him stop. He hoped, in any case, that Nii-sama wouldn't hurt her too much.  
  
:Please be nice, Nii-sama.  
  
***  
  
HIM!: Silvie found this knarly song that I think totally applies to Seto. Does anyone else think so? It's by Limp Bizkit and is called "Behind Blue Eyes". (Doesn't the title fit?) Sorry about the long wait. XP It's the holidays, so I was busy. :) I would also like to thank my beta reader, donaMariposa, for her help. YAY FOR DONA (Mari Posa)!!!  
  
No one knows what it's like  
  
To be the bad man  
  
To be the sad man  
  
Behind blue eyes  
  
An' no one knows what it's like  
  
To be hated  
  
To be fated  
  
To telling only lies  
  
[Chorus:]  
  
But my dreams  
  
They aren't as empty  
  
As my conscience seems to be  
  
I have hours, only lonely  
  
My love is vengeance  
  
That's never free  
  
No one knows what it's like  
  
To feel these feelin's  
  
Like I do  
  
And I blame you  
  
No one bites back as hard  
  
On their anger  
  
None of my pain an' woe  
  
Can show through  
  
[Chorus: Repeat]  
  
(Discover)  
  
(L-I-M-P...  
  
Say it...  
  
Discover...)[x4]  
  
No one knows what it's like  
  
To be mistreated  
  
To be defeated  
  
Behind blue eyes  
  
And no one knows how to say  
  
That they're sorry  
  
An' don't worry  
  
I'm not telling lies  
  
[Chorus: Repeat]  
  
No one knows what it's like  
  
To be the bad man  
  
To be the sad man  
  
Behind blue eyes 


	5. Chapter Five

Shimmie-chan should be _really_ glad I love her lots. :P Otherwise I wouldn't have fixed this for ya'll. Now go. Read her now fixed chapter and give her fabulous reviews. Oh, and cut her some slack; she and her beta have different word processors so things get mixed up a lot. *pokes* Gogogogo!!! Revieeeeew... Now. If you were wondering, this is Silvie, aka the Lady Silver Dragon I, who is extremely bored out of her skull and probably will soon be a bloody pulp since her ungrateful sister does not appreciate little rants such as this one. Mwahahaha. Angst shall rule the world, and Yami no Bakura-sama shall prevail! *evil villain-fangirl cackle*

***

She didn't know what exactly to expect when she stepped into the room. Mokuba referred to his brother as 'Nii-sama' which meant 'most honored older brother' in Japanese, but also told her to be 'careful'? Usually, those two things weren't put in the same sentence. 

The room was rather dark, excluding a small amount of light coming from what looked to be a computer of some sort. A laptop, from the looks of it. The only sound in the room was the sound of the keyboard clacking. Loudly. 

She wondered if she should address him or if she should wait for him to address her. She opened her mouth to speak, when finally, he asked exasperated, "WHAT?" 

"Um, are you, uh, Kaiba-sama?" she asked uneasily. 

"Yes," he replied, drawing it out into the longest, most irritated-sounding way possible. "What about it?"

"Uh, yes, I..." Oh shit. What was she supposed to say now? 'Uh, thanks for taking care of me while I was smashed, but if you'd take me home now, that would be great'? Brother. She should have thought this out more... 

"My patience is wearing ever THIN," he seethed. 

"Um, yes, I'm the one that, uh, collapsed on you, and..."

"Oh, so it's Mokuba's friend..." he replied, typing steadily through the conversation. "Did you know he SMUGGLED you into the trunk of the limo?" 

"Well, er..." Shizuka faltered. "Ummmm... No." 

"Well... he did." sneered the man, as if her answer wasn't what he had wanted. 

"Ah. Well, I was wondering," she began, hoping she hadn't started on the wrong foot, "Will you take me, er, home?" 

"No." he said flatly. "What do you mean?" She gasped, despair almost knocking her over. She would get fired from both jobs if she didn't get to work soon! 

"I mean 'no' as in 'negative' or 'the opposite of yes'." He snapped, obviously enjoying her annoyance. 

"I get it!" she blurted, exasperated. "Then...can I call my brother?" 

"No." He replied. 

"Why not?" 

"Because!" 

"But... but that's not an answer!" she insisted. 

"Yes it is." He replied. 

"But it's not a complete sentence!" She cried. 

"That is correct." He pondered. "But that's not the point." 

"You have to take me home!" she cried, stomping her foot for emphasis. 

"I do NOT have to do ANYTHING!" he snapped, silencing her. "Now get out of here." 

"No! I need to go home!" Silence. "Please, I have a job, and I don't want to get fired." 

"Do you really think I CARE?" he spat, making her shrink back. She bit her lip. Should she steal one of his cars? Probably not the best idea. Walk home? Who was she kidding? 100 miles out of Domino? "Sit DOWN." He suddenly commanded. 

"What?" she breathed. 

"SIT." He replied. She stepped forward, about to ask where a chair was to begin with, but ran into an overstuffed leather chair. She sat down in it slowly. "Now, I have a... proposition for you." 

"Wha-"

"You will not speak unless spoken to," he snapped. She swallowed her question. "I will bring you home if you will... TALK with me." 

"Wha-"

"SILENCE! And I do not mean a chirpy, preppy talk that you indulge in with friends and comrades and other girls. I mean, as in talk, you tell me EVERYTHING about yourself, your life, your emotions; you will come to me and tell me all of this faithfully." 

"Do psychologists track down their patients nowadays? Is this some kind of 'take pity on the poor and helpless' for psychologists?" she blurted. 

"I am NOT a psychologist." He seethed. "Do you agree or not?" 

"Would I go home later if I didn't?" she asked. 

"No." 

"But that's illegal!" she cried indignantly. 

"I am above the law," he sneered.

"Why would you WANT to know about me?" she exclaimed.

"That is for me to know, and you to wonder. Will you or will you not?"

"No!" she shrieked. "You have NO right to pry into my life like this! I will call the police if you don't take me home RIGHT NOW!" The sound of the keyboard stopped, and Shizuka felt her fingers tightening around the arms of her chair. She hadn't seen any light, so he hadn't left... Had he? Suddenly, she was ripped out of the chair and both of her wrists were held in an iron grip. It surprisingly didn't hurt. She tugged on her wrists, but to no avail. Suddenly, someone whispered something near her ear. 

"You can't refuse me..." it whispered. "You can't win. Give it up..." it advised. 

"No," she whispered, again trying to pull away. She felt her heart pound, but she wasn't afraid. Her fingers flexed, fingertips barely touching the fabric of an expensive male's shirt (she knew these things) and the slight smell of cologne. "No..."

She felt herself being pulled just barely closer, and no matter how much she tried to resist, she couldn't help but give in. She was slightly afraid of what he was going to do to her...but also slightly excited. She felt his hot breath on her neck and she squirmed, clutching his shirt in her fists. He chuckled at her reaction, and he bent his neck closer. Her heart pounded, wishing he'd stop playing with her and just DO IT already. 

She instantly regretted it.

His lips touched her neck, softly. She purred, even though she attempted to get away. For some reason, she couldn't stop him... Did she even want to stop him? He continued to her jaw line, gentle kisses all along it, until he came to her lips. She abruptly held her breath, not sure what to do. She didn't even know this guy's NAME. 

But again, when their lips touched, all thought vanished, and all she could think of was him...his hand traveled down, resting just in the small of her back. She arched her back, pressing herself against him. He chuckled again, and the sound enticed her even more. For some reason, she wanted him. WANTED him, needed his touch. NO! her head screamed. DON'T LET HIM DO THIS TO YOU. YOU ARE NOT HIS LITTLE SLUT! 

"No," she breathed. "No, please, don't..." He stopped. Her heart continued to pound, somehow thinking he was still touching her, still close... Her breaths following were shallow and unsteady. 

"Will you do it?" he asked, seemingly unfazed by the whole experience. 

"No..." she tried, but again, she felt his enticing hot breath on her neck. 

"Will you?" he asked, his enunciation of the words melting her skin. Well, at least her heart...

"Yes," she murmured. "Yes, I will." His lips still hovered over her neck. "I swear." 

*** 

He smirked. He had her caught in his trap. Her body was still close to his and her breathing was irregular. He had that effect on people. He licked his lips, and tasted lip gloss. From where he stood he could smell that she had been bathed by Lucy, one of their more ancient maids.

She had been there for three generations of Kaibas, he and Mokuba not included. The thought of his stepfather made him tighten his grip on the girl's wrists. "Ah... please stop... that hurts." She whispered, tugging on her hands. He let go, and she collapsed back into her chair. At least her breathing was back to normal. Her ragged breaths had been rather annoying. He sat down at the desk. "Could you please... turn the light on?"

With an exasperated sigh, he pressed the button under his desk. The lights blared on suddenly, and he had to smirk as her arm flew up to shield her eyes. 

"I do have a reason for keeping it dark." He stated, shaking his head. She shook the dizziness out of her head, then she looked at him, and her mouth promptly fell open. 

"I DO know you!" she cried. "You were at group! Group therapy!" 

"What a load of shit that place is," he replied. 

"And I saw you at work!" she exclaimed. "You looked grumpy." 

"I AM grumpy." He replied. 

"And you got me drunk!" she announced, pointing her finger at him accusingly.

"Correction, you were drunk and I got you drunker."

"And then we fought in my, err, a dressing room." 

"You insulted me first." 

"What? I did NOT!" she replied sharply. "I can barely remember that night." 

"Maybe that's because you drank a metric ton of alcoholic beverages." He shrugged. 

"I... did I?" she spluttered.

"No, stupid. But about that much." He shrugged. 

"How did I pay?" she gasped, realizing something. 

"With all the money you had. By the way, you owe me fifty dollars." He yawned. 

"What? What for?" 

"You ran out of money and it needed to be paid." He replied. 

"I... ran out of money?" she whispered. 

"Yes." He rolled his eyes. 

"Oh no," she whispered digging in her pockets, her purse, everything. "Oh no oh no oh no..."

"What is t NOW?" 

"You said you would take me home, right?"

"Yes," he replied, tapping a few more keys. She went up to him, and touched his arm. "I really, REALLY have to get home." 

To be continued.


	6. Chapter Six

Shizuka watched the rain pour out of the sky, like the tears that threatened to fall down her face. Seto glared at the road, grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

"Perfect timing, woman. . . Right huge storm you decide to go home. . . Brother. . ." Mokuba popped up helpfully.

"Yeeees?" he asked, eyes still plastered to his GBA. Seto groaned.

"I wasn't talking to you, stupid."

"I love you too, Nii-sama," replied the younger Kaiba cheerfully. Shizuka drummed her fingers on the armrest impatiently. She opened her mouth to ask to oh-so-familiar question, but Mokuba beat her to it: "Are we THERE yet?"

"No!" Kaiba replied, exasperated, turning up the speed of the windshield wipers. "About ten minutes yet."

"Why do you drive so SLOW?" moaned Mokuba, flopping down lengthwise across the seat. 

"Maybe cause a floods worth of rain is falling from the sky?" Seto seethed angrily, trying to see through the clouded windshield. Shizuka wiped her window so she could see the torrent better. Why she wanted to see it, she didn't know, but she could see it now. She had to get there, she just HAD to. If she wasn't there in time, Mai would have a cow!  
  


She stopped her moving fingers by clenching them together. She rested her forehead on the window and watched the dreary rain pour from the sky. Finally, they arrived. 

"Where to?" he scowled.

"My job," she replied. "You know which one, I think."  
  


Without replying, he drove to the aforementioned place with efficiency, like he had been there more than once. . . She slipped out, not caring if the rain got her hair wet. Frankly, she didn't give a damn. Mokuba watched as she slipped into the building. 

"Where is she going, Nii-sama?" he asked. Seto sighed.

"Get in front, Kiddo," was his reply.

***

"I'm so sorry, it was totally out of the blue! Please! I'll work double shifts!" Shizuka begged, chasing after her angry manager. 

"Did you forget about 'call in long absences?' Where the FUCK were you?" he wheezed, measure a girl, then pointing at her, declaring, "You're FIRED. Get out of my face."

"Please! My aunt. . . Er, Freddie died! And she lived in America!" Shizuka replied, following after her manager as he moved on from the sobbing, now unemployed, girl. "I was hauled onto the plane! And you know how expensive cross-country calls are, even on my cell! Please!"

"Why should I? You go absent all the time, never bothering to call them in!" He measured the waist of another girl, and then silently stalked off. This girl also collapsed into tears, but these were of joy instead of misery.

"I really am scatterbrained, I promise I'll pay more attention! Please, I really need the money!"

"If you still weigh in, you can stay. If not, you are out a job. Agreed?" She nodded as fiercely as her neck would allow. She lifted her arms, and he put his measuring string around. He stepped on her toe, making her exhale with an "OW!", and also giving the appearance of more weight. "You're fired," he spat at her.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

***

She hopped on her bike, turning the ignition. It faltered. "Nonononono!!" she cried, giving it a little kick. "Come on, come on!" Finally, it listened to her pleas and roared to life. The rain was tearing down harder now, if that was even POSSIBLE, and it fell on her skin like pebbles being thrown at her. At least it wasn't hailing…

She went off with roaring speed, her helmet on, but visor up. She didn't have the windshield wipes Kaiba had, and even though she had to squint her eyes to keep most of the stinging drops out, she preferred pain over death. She went as fast as possible to the diner. 

She raced past a familiar black car which honked at her, but she didn't take the time to look at it. She had to keep at least ONE job. She'd find a way to snag her other job back, one way or another. She stopped shortly in front of her diner and rushed in. 

"MARGARET!" she yelled, bursting into the kitchen. "MARGARET!!!"

"Don't even try it," the old woman grumped. "You're fired!"

"But, Mar, I-"

"No! I've bailed you out too many times. I don't care. You are on your OWN. Now, git! I don't wanna see you."

"Margaret!"

"NO! Get out, Shizuka, I'm NOT in the mood. GIT!" 

Shizuka stomped her foot angrily, but left the crowded kitchen. Now she was down TWO jobs. Damnit.

***

Shizuka burst into Joey's apartment, to find Mai boredly flipping the channels and Issei banging two blocks together.

"Mai!" she blurted, "Did it go out fine? Are you all okay? I'm so sorry I wasn't there, I-"

She was silenced by Mai's slap. Her hand went to her cheek, and her eyes went up, startled.

"I don't know WHAT the FUCK you were doing, but a lot of good it did you! Joey went just about INSANE looking for you and made it WORSE! You are SUCH an IMMATURE bitch, HOW could you do this to your FAMILY?!"

"Mai, I-" Shizuka began, tears threatening to fall.

"GET OUT! I DON'T CARE! GET OUT!!!" Mai shrieked, pushing Shizuka out the door. Shizuka fell back, hitting the wall behind her. Oh no. 

***

He had to be here, he just HAD to! It was the only hospital left in Domino. They hadn't shipped him off to Tokyo again, did they? Pushing the scene she had been in with Mai, she raced in. 

She pounded on the Nurse's Desk.

"Tell me!" she begged. "Where is Jounouchi Katsuya?" 

"Room 319." The nurse said, eyebrow raised. Shizuka flew off, not even waiting for an elevator. She bounded up the steps, to the third floor. Flying past patients, nurses, and doctors alike, she found to door.

She flew into it, and was immediately sickened. Joey was on life support, barely breathing, he was just about as pale as she was, and was asleep, but not snoring. Joey had a classic I-don't-have-a-reason-to-snore-but-I-do-just-to-piss-off-my-wife snore, but it was sickeningly silent. 

She dropped to her knees, taking her brothers cold hand in hers.

"Joey, I'm so sorry," she sobbed into the mattress. "I'm such an idiot…"

"Shizuka," Joey wheezed, flexing his fingers. "You came back."

"You sound like the Beast in that Disney movie," Shizuka choked through her sobs, tightening her grip around his hand. 

"But I'm a sexy beast, right?" he asked playfully, sounding more like the old Joey.

"That's not funny," she sobbed/giggled, which sounded more like hiccups. 

"Yes it is," he replied. "I'm a funny, sexy beast." 

"Joey, stop it," she replied, wiping away her tears. "You totally ruined it." 

"I couldn't see my sister sad," Joey replied, wiping away a tear she had missed. "That's what brothers are for, yanno."

"I'm sorry," she again blurted. 

"It's okay, Shiz. As long as you are still safe, I'm fine. I'm not going to ask, but just tell me next time okay?" he asked, squeezing her hand gingerly. She smiled as she agreed.

"I promise, Joey."

***

Shizuka looked up at the large building in front of her. She hadn't wanted to work here, **ever**, but know, she knew she had no choice. Joey's emotional shock had made it worse, and she knew she would have to do it.

'You promised yourself,'  her smarter side hissed in her mind. 'Did you forget about that? About all of your pride, dignity, merit? You'll be throwing it all away if you go through with it.'

'But it is your fault,'  the other side reminded. 'It's your fault he did it. Your fault! Are you going to let him down now?'

She knew she shouldn't, but she agreed with the darker side. She shifted her bag over to her other shoulder. Joey's life was worth more than she would ever be.

She strode in, trying to look proud and beautiful at the same time. She strode up to the woman at the front desk.

"I'd like to apply for a job," she said clearly.

***

Shizuka felt worse and worse about the whole thing every minute she had to wait. She tapped her foot impatiently, wondering when her guts would run out completely, and she would run away.

'It pays well,'  one side said.

'It's demeaning.' The other hissed.

'It will get the job done faster.'  The other replied easily.

'You'll never forgive yourself.'  The other spat.

'It will save him.' it purred.

'If he knew, he'd never forgive you.'  it replied darkly. The thought tore Shizuka's heartstrings in half. She was just about ready to stand up and slink out of there, attempting to be as unnoticeable as possible, when the manager came out. He was young, with dark hair, and incredibly green eyes.

"Well?" he asked. "Are you Jounouchi Shizuka?" 

"Yes," Shizuka nodded, with more calm in her voice than she had in her heart.

"Then come in." he replied, walking back into his office. She rose and followed him meekly, and he motioned for her to sit in the chair directly in front of him. He flipped through the papers she had painstakingly filled out. . . Then his eyes met hers. "So you want to get as much money as possible in the short amount of six months?"

"Yes," she repeated, bobbing her head. "It's urgent," she added.

"Let me see what you have to offer," he replied, tossing the papers on his desk and closing the shades of the long, wall-length window.

"What?" she breathed.

"Take everything off," he replied easily. Instead of freezing as she usually did, she pulled her top off and wiggled out of her skirt, embarrassment left behind. She retained her bra and panties, and held her arms out for his inspection.

"A little thin," he observed, fingers tracing over her exposed ribs, making her shiver. "You'll have to gain a few pounds. Maybe cut your hair. . ." then he fingered her long locks, which she hadn't touched since she was born. She shook her head stubbornly.

"I won't do it. I won't cut my hair." She said stiffly, giving him no room for argument. 

"Fine. But you'll have to show me what you can do," he said, lust lingering in his eyes. She felt disgusted, but the words tumbled out of her mouth as if she had no say in the matter.

"Will you pay me for the trial?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied lustily. 

"Then. . . Give me all you've got," she replied, her mouth going where her mind couldn't. 

'You are doing it for Joey,' her mind whispered. 'It's for Joey.'

"Yes," she breathed quietly, "It's for Joey. . ."

***

Noooo, my poor Shiz! Oh, I feel so bad... Yeah, self promise, screw that! Next chapter…? It's COMING. Not here yet. It COULD be jumpstarted if a few more people joined my Yu-Gi-Oh! group…

Oh? The link? Why OF COURSE. H t t p : / / g r o u p s . m s n . c o m / M a s I k a A Y u – G I – O h R P G. Delete the spaces, of course. *hint hint nudge nude shove shove*

Also, reviewing is PROVEN to help the speed of updates! So give it a try, and watch me fly! (Wow that rhymes, what a crime) 


	7. Chapter Seven

Hopefully this will be longer than my Blackmail chapter. T-T I feel so bad for not making that longer, but I have so much going on and it is Lent... Speaking of, I gave up TV besides Yu-Gi-Oh! and Teen Titans. Lots of hugs and kisses and showers of chocolates to my reviewers! (Also, I noted in Blackmail, that I have so many chapter fics on the market now I really have to limit each chapter to about 5 pages at the most. Sorry, but I really can't help it. Please, no rocks thrown at me, I'm too busy to avoid them!!!)  
  
Shizuka sat in the bed, the sheets clamped in between her fists, a lifeless look on her face. The whole night had been painful, and she had to do it... Her blood red hair spilled around her, and her skin was paler than death. Her bed partner was showering, and to get out of having to join him, she had feigned sleep. He would come back and want more, and she would have to give it to him.  
  
Her heart had never stopped pounding in her chest, and her eyes kept traveling to the door, as if Joey were to burst through them at any moment, disowning her and condemning her, even as she pleaded it was for him. That slap Mai had given her yesterday still stung on her cheek, though evidence of the blow had long since sunk into the surface.  
  
That was just a small taste of what the immeasurable pain of being thrown out of her family. They were all she had. Once Joey had gotten sick, she had lost all of her friends. Anzu and Ribbon-chan had faded into the sympathetic but unhelpful sea of people who refused to acknowledge Joey was going to die, sooner rather than later. That was why she was doing this.  
  
She would not let Joey die.  
  
She may be disowned by him, but she would pay the bills in full. Joey had paid for her 3 million dollar surgery, which gave her eyesight now. What good was it? She wasn't going to go anywhere in the world, this much was certain, and he still could do so much... He should have kept that money to fix the problem he was in now.  
  
He had a strange, foreign illness where great emotion makes a person very, very sick. And Joey was always emotional. He couldn't help it, it was the way he was! It hadn't been so bad, but Shizuka had run off with Otogi. She had only wanted to have some fun, see some sights... He took her to Rome and Paris, and she hadn't thought to stop and tell Joey...  
  
Joey just about went insane looking for her, and was put into the hospital with severe watch. Even then, he managed to get out and collapse on the streets looking for her. Two weeks later, the police had tracked her passport and dragged her back home. Joey was so happy... But it had permanently crippled his health. They had tried everything, in attempts to help Joey to get better, but nothing worked...  
  
Until this new drug came along. Mai didn't like the sound of it. Too expensive, she said. Shizuka had gotten her first job this way. They hadn't noticed the drug made Joey worse and worse because you couldn't tell. Joey hid his pain like a first class actor. They only figured it out when he was found collapsed on the bedroom floor. Turns out it made his disease worse.  
  
He was in the hospital for weeks, waiting for the money for surgery. They weren't going to have it in time, so Shizuka started her second job. The money was raised... Only to find it wasn't enough. It was a series of surgeries, and each time they would need more money...  
  
He was on his fifth installment now. Seven more to go. A grand total of 100,000,000,000 yen. She had only gained about 11,000 to date. And she needed five times that for his next installment. Yes, she had a reason for the torture she was going through.  
  
Her 'company' hopped back into bed with her, fondling her breast, hot breath on her neck.  
  
"Ready for another round, baby?"  
  
"You'll pay me?" she asked stiffly.  
  
"Yes'm," He replied, planting searing hot kisses on her neck.  
  
"Alright then," she replied softly, wrapping her arms around his neck, wincing as he began to explore. "Do your worst."  
  
Shizuka made it out of his apartment three hours later with 1000 yen in her pocket. She frowned as she realized he had drove her here. Now she had no ride. She couldn't go back there, not without being asked for 'another round'. She glanced back, but quickly snapped her head back, before spitting on the side walk. Disgusting.  
  
She saw a regular street hooker with a cigarette glued to her mouth, a ripped blouse, tiny skirt, and fishnets, the runny mascara almost covering all of her face. She couldn't help but have a feeling of distaste at the sight.  
  
You little bitch. Her mind spat at her. You yourself are the same as she, and you find HER disgusting? Look in the mirror or wake up, because you are living in a fantasy world.  
  
Shizuka faltered, and the hooker met her eyes. She gave her a tight smile, and the hooker smiled back. Not the smile that was the 'Oooh, business' smile. But a genuine, happy, thankful smile. The hooker, as if the sight of Shizuka turned her off the repulsive habit, tossed her cigarette at a hobo, who laughed and burnt himself with it.  
  
A flinch etched in her face, Shizuka turned away. She didn't want to walk, it was too far away anyway. And the neighborhood... Was not very neighborly. But she had no choice. Lifting her head up in what might have seemed like confidence, Shizuka began her way down the street.  
  
At every movement, she twitched, and every glance her way sent a shiver down her spine, but she walked down the dirty, dingy, littered street like she owned it, sharply pointed heels making a continuous clicking sound. Suddenly a hand tapped her shoulder, and she flew around, hand instinctively clutching her purse, which had a handy container of mace in it.  
  
She stopped her tense posture when she saw who it was. She raised an eyebrow. "Where did you come from?" she asked, dropping her hand to the more lax position.  
  
"Me dear? Oh, just scuffing the terrain," Malik Ishtar cooed back affectionately. "What ARE you doing out here, luv? I'm afraid you missed your stop- Wherever that was..."  
  
"Thanks for your concern, Malik," she sighed. "No, I meant to come down here. I came down here with somebody."  
  
"Now why would you do that? Only pervs and pimps live in this area... You didn't." Shizuka paled, and gave a weak display.  
  
"Whatever do you mean?" she asked, sounding rather British, which showed her anxiety. She knew Malik much better than she knew the Albino... Bakura was it?  
  
"You did! Shizuka, love! Let me help you!" Malik insisted. "I will not let you defile yourself in this way! It will drive you mad!"  
  
"Malik, it's too late! My boss is like the devil! I can't break away from this contract. It gives good money! It REALLY does! And I wasn't a virgin, you ninny. How could I be if I've slept with you?!"  
  
"Well, all pimps are little devils in disguise, hon, it's a common known fact! And little angels like you aren't supposed to mix. That would be like you marrying Seto Kaiba!"  
  
"Who's he?"  
  
"That bastard's not important. Of course I knew you weren't a virgin! I wasn't even your first!"  
  
"Poor baby, he's so lost and neglected that I slept with Otogi first."  
  
"You slept with Otogi first? My my, I'm surprised... And Honda was boasting he was the one to claim your prize..."  
  
"Can we not talk about my sex life please?" asked Shizuka in an irritated fashion. "I really have to go, I'm supposed to meet someone at 6:00 and its already 5:30."  
  
"Not another one in the same day!" Malik said flabbergasted.  
  
"No, no, he's some sick psychiatrist who has me as his 'special project'." Shizuka supplied her two quote fingers to bring the message across. "He's a sick freak, but I promised I'd do it so I could hitch a ride home."  
  
"My god, do psychiatrist search for their subject of muted arrogance, mental dismay, tortured souls of the living dead now-a-days?"  
  
"The correct term would be 'patients' and I don't know. I guess I'm just a intuitive case bursting with passive aggressive energy and am bound to kill."  
  
"... Not such big words, dear. I am but a humble, gay looking Mafia leader. That would be funny! And also good opportunity to get laid, due to the remorse you would feel afterward..."  
  
"Oh, shut up, please just shut up..." Shizuka muttered, turning on her heel and walking in the opposite direction.  
  
"Also, it would give you clear entrance to join the Rare Hunters!!! Usually, my guys have only knocked up a few chicks or robbed the convenience store... Yes, it's true, I don't have first class criminals." Shizuka threw up her hands to cover her ears.  
  
"No, stop! I don't want to hear it." She insisted.  
  
"Well, dear, at least let me help!" begged Malik, trotting along beside her. "I can get you all the cash you need!"  
  
"No, Malik. Joey would have a heart attack!"  
  
"But he'll be in such good repair it wouldn't do a thing!"  
  
"Shut up, Malik. There's nothing you can do. Sometimes, it seems like there's nothing I can do..."  
  
Shizuka rubbed her arms, immediately regretting not dressing up. Her blue eyes took in the large restraunt in front of her, and she frowned begrudgingly at her stone washed jeans and sweater. Screw life. She darted in out of the cold, hugging herself, eyes darting every which way, as if something would leap at her from the ceiling.  
  
She stepped into the entryway, where a man was shuffling through a deck of cards. Intrigued, she asked, "Duel Monsters?"  
  
"No, Pokèmon," replied the man boredly. Then he caught what she was wearing, and raised his eyebrow. "I'm afraid you've got the wrong place. Definitely. Pimpville is THAT way. Only classy people belong here."  
  
"What? No, someone called me and told me to meet them here!" Shizuka cried. "33 Elm! This is 33 Elm, isn't it?"  
  
"...Yes. But they must have given you the wrong number, because I'm telling you, you are not coming in-"  
  
"Miss!" a waiter slid in. "Come in! Don't dally with him, his an idiot." The waiter dragged her in, giving her only a mere second to relish the look on the guys face. In a blur, she was escorted to a familiar looking young man, who, surprisingly, was also shuffling through a deck of cards. Opting for what the other had, she asked quaintly,  
  
"Pokèmon?"  
  
"No. Duel Monsters," he replied, dropping the deck on the table. His icy blue eyes caught hers. "Shizuka. Sit down." Like a well-trained dog, Shizuka dropped to a softly padded chair, wringing her hands in her lap, looking everywhere but at him. "Now, Shizuka, tell me. Tell me what I want to hear."  
  
"What do you want to hear?" she asked.  
  
"What do you want me to hear?" he asked. Shizuka frowned, and once she had thought it out, she replied:  
  
"I don't know..." she trailed off, curling on of her red strands of hair desperately.  
  
"Then start at the beginning."  
  
"Okay, I was born in 1985, and my mom was-"  
  
"Not that early, dimwit," he replied with a groan.  
  
"How early?" she asked.  
  
"The beginning of the day."  
  
"Well, you dropped me off. And I went to beg Frank for my job. He fired me. So I drove my motorcycle through the rain to the diner and tried to keep at least one job. I was unsuccessful. I went to see my sister in law and she ranted and raved at me and then threw me out of the house. I saw my brother in the hospital, and he wasn't doing so good. The End."  
  
"I don't believe you. You didn't get a new job?"  
  
"So... Maybe I did. What is it to you?"  
  
"What is your new job? You can't just leave bits and pieces out." Shizuka gave a wavering breath.  
  
"I... I signed up for Redmond's... Pleasure house."  
  
"So you are a well paid prostitute." Seto laughed. "How pitiful."  
  
"What do you expect me to do, rich boy? I, unlike you, don't have money spurting out my ears! I need this money. I don't want my brother to die. So if you have a problem, frankly, I don't want to hear it."  
  
To be continued.

AN: groan I am so sorry, y'all, that I haven't been updating!! Sorrysorrysorry! Totally unispired.


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